Keep the Faith

Day 879.

I sit here once again, as if I am a hollow vessel, and all that is within me is love.

Every cell of my structure is endless love flooding my hollow self where there used to be organs, is now just love.

The love is liquid, and shiny, and made of tears.

Some are tears of joy, some are tears of loss.

The period of high functioning, it seems, is over.

Because to deny those tears chokes my system and in my case brought my knee to disfunction, literally. My mind too.

I think only of my children.

The loss of my Luke to heroin, and George to his grief.

I can protect neither of them.

What does that leave me with as a mother?

What did it ever leave me?

If I could have proof that Luke and I would ever be reunited, I could bare this. I could continue to function, safe in the knowledge that this is not forever.

I could tolerate it, as I could before, when Luke was away, or at work, and continue on my path doing what my journey leads me to do.

And George too, and Adam too.

And what would that proof need to be to convince me?

If Luke came to me in a vision

would I believe it?

Would I think my mind had constructed it?

Have I lost my faith?

My faith that Luke is around me?

It is terrifying to me firstly and foremostly (if that’s a word) because I cannot bare to think of Luke sitting here, trying to communicate, and me not listen or hear.

Was it so in life too? Oh the regrets.

The grief, the loss, the love, goes nowhere.

It just changes form. Constantly changes form.

The words of my printed journal are still true today. As true as they were then.

I’ve just found a way to absorb them into my every hour.

But sometimes, like now, they dissolve me into a liquid mass of love, tears and loss.